It showers us all in sulfuric sensation

Let’s make a list of things I don’t know. These things are all causing me to have what I’m sure will resemble a month-long nervous breakdown.

1: I don’t know where we’ll be living after June 17. We have no word on the house we want. Nothing. The lovely Eleanor (and I KNOW you’re reading this) tells me “not to worry, Love” (Actually, she didn’t, but that’s how I’d like it to sound). Things are different down yonder.

(As an aside, I think it would be fun to post this one without spell checking. It would be fun, but I like you people so I won’t. I smell a real mess coming)

1a: I don’t know if we have enough time to pull off another deal if that one goes to shit. We have under 3 weeks to go. This is officially not cool. ***It’s later now. The aforementioned Eleanor has told me that a deal can go through in 3 days down there. I’ll believe that when I see it.***

2: We don’t know if our buyers will take the house. They want a new roof, repairs to the wood siding and repairs to the front steps (by the way, it took me 7 tries to spell steps correctly right there. I’m not even hungover, just antsy). Oh yea, they also want the chimney repaired. My response: Fuck you. Take it or fuck off. And since the lady is about to have a baby, I don’t know what choices they have. We came down $9000 from the initial listing to sell this place. Fix it yourself. However, if we knew if we were getting the house in Raleigh, we’d know how much money we have left over and what we could do on this one to make the deal happen more smooth-like.

3: I don’t know if HealthcareRelated Company is keeping me or not. Apparently, there are meetings this week to discuss it. I told my boss that my last day is next Friday unless they come up with something and there’s barely any time between now and then. I really don’t care either way, but it would be nicer to have some income for a while. It will make the bills associated with living in a hotel because we don’t have a house to move into all that much easier to bear.

(since the last typo reference, I’ve had like 20, including 1 in this sentence)

4: I don’t know how on Earth we’re going to pack our house. I know this isn’t that bad…it just needs to be done, but there’s a lot of work and I didn’t do enough this weekend. I have to go through my books tonight. I have a lot of books and will categorize them into: Those I MUST have for the next 9 months, and those that I could live without. On the first list, one could find: any book written by Mr. Buffett, some Tom Clancys, some Steven Kings, and some other must haves. (4 typos in that sentence alone) From there, I’ll move throughout the house. The problem is that JewelrySlut wants to throw out the house and start anew. She’s ready to pitch everything. As a result, I have to find a garbage hauler person to cart away our mess. I wish we could just get a dumpster and throw away as we like.

5: This isn’t technically something I don’t know, but I’ll add it: I have no confidence in any of this going well. I just spoke to the realtor and she’s telling me to get a roofer to the house to see what’s up. This contradicts what she had previously said about us not needing to worry about the roof. So, she’s an asshole, the other realtor is an asshole, the buyers’ attorney sucks, and ours is never around. Oh yea…things are doing very well right about now. I think if you put a blood pressure cuff on me today it would explode.

On to other things. I like it when people write letters to other people or things. Like this:

To: Everyone I work with
Re: Going and fucking yourselves

Dear Everyone who works here,

Fuck you.

Did you happen to notice that I greeted you with a “Cheerio guvvnah” this morning? Do I have brown, crooked teeth? Was I carrying chips wrapped in the Daily Mirror?

I didn’t fucking think so.

Wanna know why?

It’s because we don’t fucking live in England or in any other country where they drive on the left side of the fucking road. So, as a courtesy to those of us who understand this, walk your fat fucking ass down the right, and when I say right, I mean “correct” as well as “right” side of the fucking hallway. I am more than tired of turning corners and walking into one of your fat asses as you carry your feedbag back from the cafeteria. I’ve really had it, folks. I’m under a lot of stress and am no mood to bump into one of your planetary-sized bodies when I’m trying to get to the bathroom to take a piss.



To: The fucking fucks who work to my left
Re: Me not giving a fuck about you

Dear fat assholes,

First off, maybe you wouldn’t need to be on those infamous diets you’re always talking about if you, for just 1 fucking minute, stopped eating. I mean, it’s like listening to cattle chew their cud all day. I’m tired of it.

I also don’t five a fuck who won American Idol and how you all couldn’t decide who to vote for and it kept you up all night as you worried about whether or not having not voted would have an impact on the show. I don’t fucking care.

Popping bubblewrap is not cool. I swear to fucking Christ, it’s not cool.

Waddling up and down the cubicle corridors is also not cool. It’s not cool because you’re all so fucking fat that you don’t fit between the cubes. Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up. Don’t you all think that when you can’t fit between the cubes that maybe it’s time to lose a few pounds? Do you all cry when you look in the mirror? I mean, it’s not cool to carry 300+ pounds on a barely 5 foot tall frame. Not cool at all.
It’s also not cool when all 8 of you are on the same conference call at the same time. Go get a fucking conference room and have the meeting there. There is absolutely no need whatsoever to force me to listen to all 8 of you in fucking speakerphone stereo.

So, get this all done today so you can be alive for the next 2 weeks while I wind down my time here.



To: The fatties in the lunchroom
Re: The microwaves

Dear Fatasses,

The buckets of food that you consume will not heat up faster if you stare at the microwave. You’re not shooting out any extra boosting microwaves. You’re just blocking the napkin dispensers. And when I come by to get some of said napkins, AND I say “excuse me”, it’s really best to move a little bit and not to give me that Head-Wagging “Uh-huh you did not just say THAT” look that you’re all so find of doing. I’m not trying to “repress you” (Please, when reading, do the quotation fingers and add extra emphasis and whiteness to that statement) or “keep you down” because I am the “man”. I just want a fucking napkin.



See, it’s just that easy. I feel a little better now, but not much. Most of all, I want to kill someone or get a straight answer about anything.

Until then, I’ll sit here and clench my ass cheeks. I’m doing that not because I like how it feels but because I may shit myself. I ate too much meat last night. I grilled up a bunch of kielbasa, smoked sausage (almost the same thing but not quite), some garlic chicken sausage and some marinated chicken breasts. I have to make a meat shit and am afraid of it. Plus, I just ate 2 slices of Friday’s pizza, a pear and an apple (see…that’s how I maintain my girlish figure) for lunch. Throw in stress and I may shit myself. I want to hold it until 4:00 is I can because then the bathrooms empty out and nobody needs to be around when my ass decides to explode.

Boy, I’d bet you wish you could have that last minute of your life back.

**PS…I usually think up a header for the posting after I paste in the text. That one is a beauty if I may say so.

Life is just a tire swing

I have to tell another poop story. Xquzme made me think of this. Not her the person, but her entry. I referred to this in my comment.

So, this past New Year’s we went out to Long Island to see some of JewelrySlut’s family. We love going to see them because it ALWAYS ends in drunken silliness. There’s no way to avoid it. Actually, they were the inspiration for the recent purchase of a cooler and booze for our 3 day stay in North Carolina. They always travel with a mobile liquor store. These are good people to be around.

Her cousin’s husband is merciless. Not in a Ming way, but in a “There’s nothing safe or sacred when you’re around me” kind of way. I mean, the man openly makes fun of me when I stutter. From anyone else, it’s not cool, but from him, it’s expected. If you have a weakness, he will pounce on it. We get along very well. We just pass our time swapping insults and inappropriate comments. The wives get through these times by drinking Korbel. That’s what they drink when together, champagne. By the bucket.

But I digress.

So, we’re out there for New Year’s. There’s a ton of food and merriment. Unfortunately, I was very tired. I was ready for bed at like 8:00. After hearing about how I was a gay ass lazy motherfucking faggot for about an hour or two, I decided to start drinking. Naturally, I started double-fisting Mojitos and Pinot Grigio. That’s smart. By 12, I was fully hammered and wobbling around.

The next morning, I got up early to cook breakfast for everyone. After we ate, the night before decided it didn’t want to be where it was any more. I excused myself to go potty. Well, I shat a mighty shit. This was an amazing volume of shit. I knew there was a lot, just how much was a different story. I should have flushed as I progressed, but I was so happy to be voiding my colon, I kept shitting.

When I flushed, nothing happened. I kinda just stared at the bowl. Then I flushed again.

The bowl started backing up. Then, because I’m a plumbing genius, I flushed again.

Cue the brown waterfall.

I’m standing there in the bathroom as the flood starts. I hurried downstairs only to start hearing it about having been gone for so long. Little did they know.

Um…yea…Marc…come upstairs. Bring some nasty toilets.

Well, that was all their 3 kids needed to hear. They positively flew up the stairs.

I’m mortified. Not because I defiled the bathroom, that’s why god invented bleach. I’m mortified because I know what’s coming.

Well, it took like 25 minutes of plunging and snaking to clear the clog. By now, the foulness had seeped through the floor and was dripping.

On the kitchen table.

Finally, we got done and I set out to clean the mess. Boy was there a mess.

That was several months ago. Now, whenever they call, I can hear him in the background asking how Mr. Shitter is or telling me that he built me an outhouse so I don’t destroy the rest of the house ever again.

Not good times. I will never hear the end of this. It’s not that I don’t deserve it or anything, but did I need to give him anymore ammo? He’s already on me for the whole receding hairline and hairy back thing, now he has this too.

Ok…that was gross, wasn’t it?

Still no word on the house. Things are moving at the speed of government in the south on a holiday weekend. WooHoo.

It’s supposed to be cold and rainy all weekend up here. That should make for a fun kickoff to summer. I anticipate a 2 hour ride home tonight, so I should be all riled up when I finally make it home. On a good note, we are going to get JewelrySlut’s new car tomorrow.

Can I still call her JewelrySlut? Now that she’s leaving LittleBlueBox Company, she will no longer be a JewelrySlut. A slut? Yes. A JewelrySlut? No. Hmmm…what to do. What do you all think? I’ll take suggestions.

Wombat mentioned that there may be a D-Land gathering this summer in Philly? Is that true? Count me in. I’ll be way hella cool and fly in for the afternoon like I’m some sort of rich tycoon-type. For the $50 I’d have to spend for the airfare, it would be worth it. Pencil me in.

Hmm…I think I’m turtleheading.

Gotta go

Holy Sweet Jesus…he’s got no clue

Let’s take the weekend in Chronological order. I’ll try to convey the hijinks as best as possible.

I feel the need to defend my choice of airline and airport. From our house to Raleigh is a 10 hour drive. I hate any drive over 3 hours. There was no chance we’d drive this past weekend and be married when we got back. So, I knew that Southwest flew from Philadelphia for almost nothing. It’s a 2 hour drive to PHL from our house and only 1 hour to Newark. Southwest wanted $60 round trip per person. I splurged and went for the $80 option to get a better flight time. Continental wanted $400+. Worth the extra hour in the car? I think yes. Plus, since we had to change flights after the accident, Continental would have buttraped us for at least $400 more. No thanks.

Southwest is proving that you can make money as an airline. They’ve stripped the whole thing down to “You want to get to that place. We can take you”. No frills, no nothing, just on time service at next to nothing. I love it.

We drive out and cross into Pennsyltucky. On the way, we stopped to get breakfast at a local Wegman’s. For the uneducated, Wegman’s is a supermarket. However, to JewelrySlut, it’s heaven on Earth. She’s been in love with it since she was abandoned in Western New York for college. She likes to hang out there and just walk around, seeing the sights.

(More background: Sometimes, I’m blind. I can’t see a thing from time to time, especially when I drive. I wear glasses, but they don’t always work. What I like to do n those circumstances is read signs as I see them. It’s fun)

We pull in and I see a sign:

Ground Beef. $1.79/lb

I see:

Gund Bear. &1.70/lb

Me: Hey…I thought that sign said Gund Bear. I didn’t know one could sell stuffed animals by the pound.
JewelrySlut: What? How else would you kill it?
JewelrySlut: Gund bear…you know G-U-N-N-E-D. How else can you kill it? What did you think it meant?
Me: Stuffed animals. You know, G-U-N-D.

We then spent the weekend talking about how one should kill a bear in order for it to be best sold in a supermarket.

We arrive at PHL:

Economy Lot Full. Park at Terminal of off-site

Fuck…how can the economy lot be full? We drive to it anyway, mostly because it’s the only place I know to park there. The not-helpful person tells us to go off-site or pay $18/day. I ask where off-site is and off we go…following someone else. Well, 10 minutes of searching later, we follow signs to the Park and Ride. We pull in and see a lot…no shuttle bus, no attendant…just a lot. And we’re miles away. What? I had been OK to this point, but now I was cranky. We go BACK to the airport and follow the signs to Terminal D where the big Southwest sign is. I go to Level 1 and drive around…nothing. I go up to 3 and finally find a spot almost at Terminal E.

We hike back to D, go down a few levels, go across a moving sidewalk thing, down a flight of stairs (lugging the bags, because, I’m in Angry Man Who Needs To Carry All The Bags mode. We get to ticketing and there’s no Southwest…

They’re in E.


We walk to E and get ticketed into group B.

Who’s flown Southwest? If you haven’t, here’s what happens:
You get assigned into a boarding group. There’s no assigned seats, you line up and board. The thing is that people start lining up over an hour in advance. They just stand there like cattle. And since one person starts it, everyone else joins in. We sat at another gate to avoid the crush and waited until B was almost done and then hopped into the end of the line and boarded…and got Exit row seats. SWEET!

The flight is barely an hour. I read SI and we arrived.

Got the car no problems and set off towards Cary, NC. Cary’s allegedly known as the City Area of Relocated Yankees. Holy shit, them southern folk be awful clever. We saw a townhouse/apartment place and knew we had a fallback plan. We then drove off to JewelrySlut’s brother’s house. We stopped at the Evil Empire along the way to get birthday gifts for his son. His birthday was a week before and we missed the party. We bought loud toys and a Styrofoam cooler. To fill the cooler, we stopped for vodka and Apple Pucker. It was going to be a tini weekend back at the hotel.

We hung for a while and set off to the hotel in Wake Forest, NC.

Know what about New Jersey? We don’t make left hand turns. This state believes that 3 rights = a left and we do it. They turn left in NC…across highway traffic. I handled myself OK, but if we hadn’t been driving a Kia Rio, I’d have been happier. We had a choice while driving it: Gas or A/C. It had a lawnmower engine in it. We settle in, have a few drinks and pass out.

The Hampton Inn offers breakfast. They have the coolest little things. They have food in a sack that you microwave. We each had little egg things. They were shockingly good. We took off to meet our realtor and see some houses.

I have to give her a plug here:
Eleanor is awesome. To make it even better, she’s originally from London and still sounds like it. She also has a foul mouth. We hit it off right away.

We drove to a townhouse complex and found where we plan to live. It’s a 3BR unit and it has a fully finished basement. The downstairs and basement carpet is brand new. The upstairs rugs need a little cleaning. It’s in pretty good shape for a foreclosure. The wallpaper’s a little old and the kitchen needs a face lift. But, for the price we’re paying, it’s a steal and a half. We can get it for cash and rent it once we’ve decided where we want to live. Apparently, that’s popular down there. We looked at 2 other units in that complex, but they were either creepy or too small. Nope…we’d found our house.

We didn’t have much more to do, so we went back to our car and drove out to Durham. I wanted to go piss on Duke. I hate Duke. I despise Duke. I loathe Duke.

I got to give the finger to Cameron Indoor. That was fun.

We drove through town and saw this old 1920′s house for sale. We went to the open house and nearly passed out. It was gorgeous. We can’t afford it, but it’s insane. It was listed for $440 and would go for at least 2 million in NJ.

We took a nice ride back across the top of the area and stopped in and out of developments, looking at what’s available. We saw some really nice places right near the hotel.

Now, our plan was to go see Star Wars. Instead, we had a few drinks, got some dinner at a local Mexican place, had more to drink, drove to Target to get bathing suits and then went back to the hotel pool and had a few more drinks.

It was an awesome day. We sat there just giggling at our decision. We’re so happy with ourselves!


We were meeting Eleanor after lunchtime, so we drove around Wake Forest some more and went to some new construction sites. Holy Shit, is it cheap down there (in comparison). I can’t explain it properly. Imagine being able to triple the size of your current house and pay a little more than half of what your current house is worth. And be in an area with a great job market. That’s Raleigh.

We met up and went back to Cary to see another place, just to make sure. I am sooo happy we did. Eleanor told us that there were instructions for the house. Apparently, Harvey (the dog) didn’t much care for visitors. We were supposed to yell at him if he came after us. Hoowee! Let’s go. We walked in the house and the owner was there. So, we had to behave. To start, it smelled like the cheese powder that you use to mix up some Mac’n'cheese. Not at all pleasant. We get to the kitchen and on the fridge is some Confederate stuff and a picture of a bunch of good’ol’Boys on a pickup. The 3 of us all start giggling. We go up the stairs and they have a Confederate sword and musket hanging on the wall. There’s also a picture of some genteel-like Confederates. Oh…the kitchen also had a Gone With The Wind calendar in it. Upstairs was sweet. One room had a general Lee model. The bathroom had an empty Bud Light in the garbage. The closets were filled with cammo clothes. We were in one heck of a redneck house. It was awesome.

We left and all started laughing half to death. It was very funny and I was pleased to see that the South will one day rise. And, if old Cletus is leading the charge, we’re all in trouble. Seems that he has his shit together.

We went to the office and got the paperwork going. We have to wait until Thursday to find out, but we’re hoping for good news.

We visited a few other developments and continued with the giggling. I kept remarking that we’re going to need more furniture…a lot of furniture. We’ll have rooms to hold our soda, our spare air, our dust, etc…

We finally made it to Star Wars and mercifully passed out early. My allergies were going full force and I was tired.

We had a pleasant ride to the airport and got to watch the idiots line up almost 2 hours in advance for a different flight. What the hell? You’re all getting seats, folks. There’s no reason to stand there for 2 hours to make sure you get a good one. The flight is barely an hour long.

I had 104 emails waiting for me this morning. Someone told me that wasn’t that bad. That statement alone indicates how insane email use is here at this company. 104 emails in 2 days is not considered bad. What would be? 200? The nice part is when you get the same email from the same person. Apparently, they can’t read your Out of Office thing. Ugh…

They’re still dragging ass on whether or not they’re keeping me for a while. At this point, I barely care. The main benefit is the health insurance. If we can avoid going out of pocket for it, that saves a bunch of bucks. Otherwise, it’s no big shakes. In the end, it will hurt them more than it will me.

I guess this weekend we’ll start packing. I have to try to get my hands on some boxes now. I’ll be calling Home Depot and Lowes to see what they have available. Now the real fun starts…

I’ve never seen such a beautiful island

We’re baaaack

We don’t know yet, but hope to be home owners on Thursday. there’s a process involved with buying a foreclosure, so we have to wait a few days.

Holy Fucking Wow.

Let me tell everyone who reads this journal the following: Start packing. Move the fuck to Raleigh. You have no clue. I’ll fill in details tomorrow, but if it’s not the overall (how do I not sound gay here??) beauty of the area, it’s the real estate prices or the job market or the weather or the convenience of everything.

We’s so happy and satisfied with our decision that it’s hard to put it into words.

It’s all good, yo.

And Pimp…we drove to Philly because it’s $40-$60 ROUND TRIP from there. That’s right bitch, ROUND TRIP ON AN AIRPLANE.

All hail Southwest and all of its awesomeness!

I don’t know where I’m a gonna go…

Wish us luck.

We’re off on our little adventure tomorrow.

Something witty to come in a few days.

I owe 2 people interview questions. Maybe the Philly airport or the flight on Southwest will inspire me.

I can’t believe it, but in the next 3 days, I’ll own a house in another state. A state where I only know 2 people (my 1 Tiara-buddy doesn’t count). A state with more than 1 NASCAR track.

I must be nuts.

Someone told me today that she thought we were brave.

Or are we just insane?

But, I’m doing it with the 2 women in my life who mean everything to me.

It’s not that insane…